A Year In The Life
by HeidiW
Summary: Not so much a traditional "story" as a sequence of interconnected vignettes, this is my attempt to show Lara CAN indeed balance a relatively normal life with adventuring, and that she can maintain relationships to boot. She need not revert to a one-dimensional, work-obsessed shell of a character.
1. Chapter 1

A YEAR IN THE LIFE

CHAPTER 1

Lara turned the corner and made her way down the long hallway that led to the former Servants' quarters, idly trailing her fingers along the wooden panelling as she went.

The Manor had once housed over a dozen staff, though there had never been anywhere that many in Lara's lifetime. Aside from Winston, the brunette could vaguely recall one or two part-time help from childhood - their names, if she'd once known them, had long since dissipated from memory.

Her father had never made the Estate's upkeep a priority, that she knew from her earliest memories.

Nor, she mused, had his immediate predecessors, given the dilapidated condition that plagued large swaths of the Manor. And yet, the Englishwoman was strangely content.

Perhaps even...happy?

It was not a sensation she was accustomed to.

She'd begun the process of hiring contractors with the aim or restoring the most heavily damaged sections of the Estate, the building's sheer sprawl enabling the workmen to come and go out of Lara's sight: on most days, it was hard to tell there was even a work crew present.

But that wasn't the reason for the archaeologist's unusually high spirits.

For most of her life she'd looked upon the Manor with melancholy, those few happy memories from childhood slowly being squeezed from consciousness by an endless series of tragedies.

Returning to the Manor had proved a double-edged sword: true, it provided a measure of stability and financial security - but at a cost. The Estate had come to represent a symbol of loss, a constant reminder of the Fates' cruel sentence.

A childhood cut short.

Isolation. Loneliness.

She'd moved back in shortly after her return from Siberia, though it had been with a brooding mindset. The heart-wrenching discovery of her mother's tomb had only exacerbated matters, even if it had answered long-held questions: there were times when the Englishwoman's insatiable quest for Truth hit too close to home.

The archaeologist had lived alone in the Manor's silent and gloomy expanse for nearly a year before Sam forcibly shoehorned herself back into the archaeologist's life, having turned her back on her own family in the process.

For Lara, it had proved to be a turning point. So much had changed in the three years since.

The archaeologist hummed softly as faint voices drew her further down the former servants' wing.

For the first time in Lara's adult memory the Manor had __life__. Voices other than those in her head. The patter of feet that were not her own. The eclectic sounds of music, television and computer games. The clanging of kitchenware. The popping of the toaster.

The venerable, musty edifice, so long silent, now practically radiated with energy.

A new family resided at Croft Manor. Not Crofts - at least for the most part - and not related by blood - but a family nonetheless

 _ _Her__ family.

Sam. Elsie. Even Doppie, unthinkable as it might've seemed just a year before. And with standing offers to Kaz and Jonah, it stood to grow even larger.

The Manor had become Lara's home once more - but now it actually __felt__ like one

The Englishwoman gazed up at the servants wing's comparatively plain ceiling, stretched her arms out the width of the corridor and smiled.

 _ _I could get used to this...__

The Universe had tried to break her since she'd first come into the world; Lara had been forced to fight for her very survival in her very first minutes of life. Undeterred, the universe had continued its efforts to claim her soul ever since with ever increasing determination - and it had very nearly succeeded.

But she'd won in the end.

It was strange, mused the brunette, how one seemingly insignificant, random encounter in the Maine wilderness, of all places, could've changed her life so profoundly.

Lara slowed her pace, the voices ahead becoming more distinct. They were coming from the largest of the former servants' rooms, the one into which they had squeezed two queen-sized beds together for their communal weekend sleep-togethers.

"Geezus, what a clusterfuck."

Lara smiled.

 _ _Elsie.__

"Well, we __did__ want to brighten things up," piped up Sam's voice. "Although this is getting borderline psychedelic."

"Why is it doing that?"

"No idea," said Sam. "But I don't think Lara will be keen on the Austin Powers motif."

"Yeah, baby, yeah."

"I told you we should've read the instructions."

"Instructions are for wusses."

"And for people who like to know what they're doing."

"Those too."

A sigh, which Lara recognized as the former filmmaker's.

"Though in our defense, there's no way this should be this complicated."

"I know, right?"

Lara stopped a few feet from the door: Sam and Elsie were somewhere within, doing - what, exactly?

"Do you think we can fix it before she gets back?"

"Not a chance," replied Sam. "She'll be here in a couple of hours...that is, unless..."

"What?"

"Hang on...just got an idea."

Lara slid her hands into her pockets and slouched back against the wall. She could simply saunter into the room and see what was going on first hand - but eavesdropping was distinctly more fun.

"Who're you calling?"

"I'm gonna try and - Jonah? Hey, it's Sam. Listen, can you stall Lara for a few hours? We ran into a bit of a snag with - what? Seriously? When? __Shit!__ "

Lara heard what sounded like a sheet of newspaper bring crumpled.

"Okay...okay, no, we'll, uh, we'll figure something out...okay, thanks Jonah!"

"What happened?"

"She left London over an hour ago," replied the filmmaker, her voice edged with anxiety.

"Crap!"

"If she came straight home she could be here, well...now!"

Lara quietly chuckled at the stress in her friend's voice.

"Okay, time for plan B," replied Elsie.

"We have a plan B?"

"We will as soon as we think of one," amended the blonde. "We just gotta figure out a way to keep her out of here for the next couple of days."

"It'll have to be good," countered Sam. "Otherwise she'll smell a rat."

"What if we...no, that won't work...oh I know! If we...ah, crap."

The room grew quiet.

"I smell something burning."

"Oh, hush."

The archaeologist smiled. Her two friends had a definite rapport. By all accounts, their unusual arrangement should never have worked - yet their bond had only gotten stronger with time.

"I know!" exclaimed the blonde. "Asbestos!"

"How's that?"

"Asbestos!" repeated Elsie excitedly. "We'll tell her they found asbestos in here and -"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but that one's dead on arrival," countered the filmmaker. "Even if there was asbestos in here, why would the workmen even be in this wing? She'll see right through that."

"Oh...well then, how about a leaky roof? We can say it started dripping and we had to move out so -"

"We're talking about a girl who'll trudge through a fetid swamp to get to a pottery shard," pointed out the Asian-American. "I don't think a few drops of water will be much of a deterrent."

Lara smiled again.

 _ _You exaggerate, Sam. I would not go through all that for a simple shard. Now a piece of Roman mosaic, maybe...__

"Dammit...stop shooting holes in my ideas!"

"Well, come up with better ones!"

The sound of fingers snapping.

"Wait, I got it! Infestation!"

"Infestation? Of what?"

"Doesn't matter," replied the blonde excitedly. "Spiders. Ants. Moths, whatever. We'll tell her we had the room bug-bombed and we can't go back in for a couple of days."

"Hey, that's not bad," mulled the Asian-American. "It's at least feasible...it might actually be worth a shot."

Lara stroked her chin. __Well played, Elsie...however I'm afraid there's already a spanner in your works.__

"Hey, where're you going?"

"Gonna grab some of that yellow construction tape," replied Elsie. "Those worker dudes must have rolls of it lying around -"

The blonde ran into the hall and immediately skidded to a stop, her pale grey eyes popping in alarm at the sight of the Englishwoman.

" _ _YAAGGHHH!__ "

Lara had barely arched an eyebrow by the time Elsie had fled back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut - the girl was mouse-quick.

"Okay, so either there's a T-Rex on the other side of that door," remarked Sam dryly. "Or she's here already."

"The second one," replied Elsie breathlessly.

"Yeah, I gathered."

"Damn that Doppie!" cursed the blonde. "So much for warning us!"

"Shoulda bribed her."

"We're out of pancake mix!"

Lara approached the old sage-painted door.

"Good afternoon, ladies."

The door's weathered surface remained resolutely silent.

 _ _Fine, then.__

Lara twisted the doorknob, to no avail.

 _ _Locked. Seriously?__

"Look, do I really need to break a door down in my own home?" asked the Englishwoman.

Frantic, unintelligible whispering seeped through the wooden paneling.

There followed a mechanical creak as the doorknob slowly rotated.

Lara stepped back as the door finally opened a few inches, just enough to allow Elsie to squeeze through. She was quickly followed by Sam, who promptly shut the door behind her before the Englishwoman good get a good look.

"Hey sweetie," said the filmmaker innocently, smiling at the archaeologist. "So how was your meeting?"

"Cancelled at the last moment," returned Lara idly, nodding at the closed door. "So tell me, what were you two doing in there?"

In truth, it was rather obvious - both Sam and Elsie were clad in two of Lara's well-used (and now paint-splattered) tank tops.

"Oh, uh, we had the room bug-bombed," said Sam.

Lara smirked. "You're going to stick with that story?"

The Asian-American looked in desperation to her co-conspirator.

Elsie shrugged sheepishly. "Nah, we're working on a better one."

"Keep working," advised the archaeologist, crossing her arms and tapping her foot with mock impatience.

The blonde glanced at Sam. "Yeah, we'll uh, let you know."

Lara twisted her features into a look of annoyance.

"Right, then," said the Englishwoman as she spun around on her heel and strode purposely down the hall. "You'll tell me when you're ready, I suppose."

As she turned the corner and the sighs of relief receded behind her, Lara's facial muscles could no longer suppress a burgeoning smile.

~ oOo ~

Lara's nervous pacing betrayed her anxiousness. Not that Sam needed the clue.

"Sweetie, relax!"

The archaeologist forced herself to come to a stop near the study's window. But repressing her anxiety's physical manifestation only made it worse.

Standing still was most definitely not one of her strengths.

"You're in my light," said Elsie, hunched over a corner of the large oaken desk, magnifying glass in hand.

"Sorry," blurted Lara, quickly moving from the window. She paused near her father's old safe, tracing a finger along its recessed edge.

Elsie had been examining the document for only a matter of minutes, but for Lara the wait was excruciating. Still, she reminded herself it was infinitely more convenient than having to take the manuscript to a university or laboratory for authentication - having someone in-house that could perform the task was a definite boon.

The blonde finally straightened up and placed the large magnifying glass onto the desk's leather blotter.

Lara's shoulders drooped: Elsie was regarding her with trepidation.

"I hope you didn't pay a lot for this...?"

"That bastard!"

Lara grasped a stapler from the desk and flung it across the room in anger, the device striking the far bookshelf before clattering to the floor.

"Oh, sweetie..."

It wasn't the waste of money that angered the archaeologist, but rather the cruel extermination of yet another hope.

Another opportunity squandered.

Lara began pacing across the study with renewed agitation before whirling on the blonde.

She pointed to the weathered manuscript. "That IS medieval parchment. I'd bet my LIFE on it!"

"And you'd win that bet," answered Elsie. "Because you're right. It almost definitely is medieval."

Lara's hand flopped to her side. "Well then, what?"

The blonde hesitated for a moment, clearly not wanting to distress the Englishwoman further.

"Lara...you can get blank sheets of medieval parchment off the Web," explained Elsie gently. "Vellum, even. It's not hard. I bet I can buy some off Amazon right now for maybe five bucks a sheet."

Sam pushed off from the corner chair and joined her friends at the large desk. "Seriously?"

Elsie nodded solemnly. "In my old job we used to get people trying to pawn stuff off all the time...it was one of their tricks of the trade."

She looked to Lara apologetically. "Sorry."

The archaeologist sighed.

"It's not your fault," said Lara. "I just...I thought that...what clued you in?

Elsie ran her fingers across the weathered document. "Well for one, this doesn't look like iron gall ink to me," explained the blonde. "It looks more like modern brown ink someone used to simulate long term oxidization."

"Two, this being insular script, we shouldn't be seeing any W's. Back in those days it was written as a literal double V or U, it only evolved into the recognizable W we see today in the Eleventh century."

For Lara, it was the parchment's killing blow. She spun on her heel and struck her palm hard against the wall.

"Blast it!"

"There's more, but...well, you get my drift."

The Englishwoman closed her eyes and tried to bring her angry breathing under control.

She'd been duped. Perhaps not knowingly, but that detail did little to alleviate her frustrations.

The archaeologist grasped at one last gossamer straw.

"Elsie...please don't take this the wrong way, but...is there __any__ chance -"

"- I could be wrong?" finished the blonde, anticipating the Englishwoman's question. "Of course."

Lara turned to her friend. Her answer had been given so easily, without hesitation, so much so that the brunette's hopes briefly revived.

"Really?"

"Sure," returned Elsie. "We all make mistakes...God knows I've done some doozies in my time."

Lara edged closer. "Just...how confident are you?"

The blonde chewed her bottom lip.

"Be realistic," urged the archaeologist. "Don't tell me something you think I want to hear."

Elsie blew out her cheeks.

"Well, if I was still at the Gallery and someone brought me this," said the blonde, waving at the rolled out parchment, "I wouldn't give them ten bucks for it."

Sam sat on the desk corner. "That bad?"

Elsie nodded solemnly.

"There's just too many red flags," said the blonde. She turned to Lara. "Sorry."

The Englishwoman felt herself go limp.

"But look, I can have Gellis mail me some test strips," quickly added Elsie. "We can test for iron in the ink...if there is none, we'll be a hundred percent sure."

"Instead of ninety nine percent," returned the archaeologist dispiritedly.

Elsie's eyes were filled with compassion. "Pretty much, yeah."

Sam slid off the desk and wrapped an arm around the Englishwoman.

"Oh sweetie...cheer up, we'll be in Brazil next week. Focus on that."

Lara smiled sadly. "Thanks, Sam. I'm just...anxious to be __doing__ something, is all."

"I know," replied the Asian-American. "I'd say you're suffering from a mild case of cabin fever - I don't think I've seen you at home for two weeks straight since before Yamatai. Getting covered in muck and stung by bugs will do you good."

Lara had to chuckle at that - even though Sam's statement was no exaggeration.

Elsie pushed off from the desk chair.

"In the meantime, I'm gonna go make us some dinner," announced the blonde, running her hand playfully through the Englishwoman's fringe on her way out.

Lara sighed and leaned into the Asian-American.

"You guys are the best," whispered the archaeologist as she closed her eyes.

~ oOo ~

Lara's spirits had risen the following day, partly aided by the fact she and Sam were marking out their Brazilian itinerary on a large map in the study. Though the disappointment of the previous day still stung, the archaeologist found succor from the looming anticipation of her next excursion.

 _ _Just a few more days...__

They'd circled a small town that would serve as their main hub prior to setting off in the rainforest when Elsie slowly shuffled into the study, barefoot and still clad in her Wonder Woman pajamas.

Sam chuckled. "Well, someone's looking perky this morning."

"Mister Coffee's dead," croaked the blonde, brushing back a mass of disheveled blonde hair.

"Uh oh," said the Asian-American.

"I'm sorry to hear that," voiced Lara, struggling to maintain a serious expression in the face of the blonde's wretched appearance. "Well, he had a good life, at least."

Elsie turned to the archaeologist. "Do we have any instant stuff stashed away somewhere?"

"Sorry, none."

"Nothing at all? Not even war surplus stuff?"

Lara shook her head. "Sorry."

Elsie's shoulders sagged.

"This sucks."

The blonde turned to leave.

Lara dropped her marker on the the map and straightened up.

"I can make you some Earl Grey, if you like," offered the Englishwoman.

Elsie continued her lethargic shuffle. "Not into tea, thanks."

"Don't think of it as tea," pressed the archaeologist. "Think of it as a nice warm cup of liquid caffeine. Any port in a storm, right?"

Elsie paused briefly at the study's doorway and grumbled before disappearing from view.

"Fine."

Sam turned to Lara and grinned.

"We'd better get a new coffeemaker quick."

~ oOo ~

Lara woke to a presence.

Though her eyes were still closed, the telltale depressions in the mattress on either side of her shoulders were sufficient confirmation she was not alone. The gentle, rhythmic breathing feathering her cheeks hinted at someone hovering only inches above her.

Of course, it wasn't hard to guess its identity - Sam and Doppie wouldn't be returning from London until evening.

The archaeologist slowly pried open one eyelid.

Her field of view was filled by two wide grey eyes staring back at her.

"Birrrrd."

Lara's second eyelid popped open.

"Eh...what?"

Elsie inched closer, the tip of her nose lightly nudging the archaeologist's.

"Birrrrrrrrrrrrrrd."

Lara blinked.

"Are you well?"

Elsie laughed and pushed off, scrambling to her feet at the end of the bed.

"Come on!" said the blonde as she bounced up and down, her long blonde hair flouncing wildly. "It's a beautiful morning! Let's go out and play!"

Lara lazily stretched and let out a yawn before flopping her arms back onto the mattress.

"How long have you been up?"

"Oh, 'bout an hour," chimed Elsie in between bounces.

Lara lazily shifted a leg that had escaped from under the covers.

"And just out of curiosity, how much coffee have you had so far?"

"Just three cups," replied Elsie happily, her bouncing continuing unabated.

Lara pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed.

"Getting a superautomatic was a mistake," muttered the brunette more to herself than her bedmate. "I've created a monster."

"Come on!" pleaded the blonde once more, the mattress shaking with each recoil. "Let's go play!"

"In case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly infants," remarked Lara. "My days of playing down in the garden are - will you stop that, please?"

"Make me," said Elsie, bouncing higher in defiance.

"Oh, you little -"

The brunette snatched a pillow and flung at the blonde, who easily dodged the unwieldy projectile.

"Missed me!"

The bouncing continued, if anything with renewed vigour.

The Englishwoman flung a second pillow - it struck the dresser and fell limply to the floor.

"Missed again!"

Lara flopped back onto the mattress, her head now bereft of cushioning support. She could score a headshot at fifty yards with a bow yet couldn't hit a point blank target with a pillow - it was clearly a skill she had yet to master.

She had one trick left unplayed: but she would have to time it perfectly.

The archaeologist synced herself to the delays between mattress impacts.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

"C'mon," repeated Elsie. "Time to get up -"

Bounce.

 _ _Now!__

Lara kicked out, striking the blonde's feet just as they left the mattress.

Elsie squeaked in surprise, flailing wildly as she fell forward before landing face-first into the Englishwoman's chest.

"Oof!"

Prepared though she was, Lara still gasped at the force of the impact. If it hadn't been for the blonde's willowy build the brunette might well have had the air knocked out of her. As it was, it was Elsie that appeared to take the worst of it: she lay sprawled atop Lara, her face buried in the archaeologist's chest.

And unmoving.

"Elsie? Are you all right?"

A muffled reply.

"Mm-hmm."

Lara let out an amused huff.

"Um...didn't you want to go out?"

A slow sigh.

"Nah," breathed the blonde into Lara's cleavage. "Imma gonna stay right here..."

~ oOo ~

Sam had worked a small miracle. Again.

Getting everyone's paperwork ready for a flight to South America was challenge enough, to say nothing of the gear sent ahead and the supplies earmarked along their route. For once Lara would be embarking on an adventure with a full kit from the outset.

The filmmaker was nothing if not a masterful organizer.

But there remained one problematic journey before they could even set foot south of the Equator - navigating London's congested streets.

"The __Sisteen__ Chapel," blurted the Englishwoman. "Not the sixteenth."

"No, it was the sixteenth," countered Elsie. "He used the first fifteen for practice."

Lara rolled her eyes.

"This is the Statue of Limitations all over again," muttered the archaeologist as she depressed the brake pedal, stopping the car at the intersection.

Elsie took advantage of the halt to lean out the window and renew her bleating, the throngs of pedestrians looking on with confusion.

"BAAAAH!"

"Not again," groaned the Englishwoman.

"BAAAAAAAAHH!"

"Elsie, please!" barked Lara. "Enough!"

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Lara huffed in frustration. The sidewalks were teeming with midday crowds, most of whom were eyeing the car's driver - Lara, in this case - as much as her seemingly deranged passenger.

"In case you haven't noticed, there is a distinct lack of of sheep in central London."

"Ya never know," returned the blonde.

"We're a mile from Piccadilly Circus!" exclaimed the archaeologist.

"Oh, let her have her fun," said Sam from the front passenger seat.

"We look like bloody lunatics," grumbled Lara, certain her cheeks were flushing.

"What's the harm?" asked the Asian-American.

"We're disturbing the peace!"

"In downtown London?" queried Sam dubiously. "What 'peace' are we disturbing?"

"You tell her, Sam!" said Elsie before sticking her head once more out the rear passenger window. "BAAAAAAH!"

Lara swore under her breath.

"Doppie, will you restrain her, please?"

"You can't be serious," said Sam in disbelief, straightening up in her seat.

Elsie leaned further out the window.

"Help! Help! I'm being repressed!"

"Stop that!" snapped Lara. "For God's sake, someone might take you seriously!"

"Twenty quid," returned the doppelgänger from the seat directly behind the archaeologist.

Lara glanced at the redhead in the rear view mirror. "Wha - you would extort me?"

"I prefer to think of it as a service fee," replied the doppelgänger. "You are asking me to impede an individual's right of self-expression, after all. That rightly carries a price."

"Well, bugger off, then!"

"BAAAAAAAAHH!"

"Arrgh," groaned the archaeologist through gritted teeth. "Five!"

"Fifteen."

"Ten! And not a penny more!"

"All right."

Sam craned her neck in the direction of the back seat. "I'll give you eleven to leave her be."

"Done," returned the doppelgänger, settling back into her seat.

Lara shot a look at her front seat companion. "Et tu, Sam?"

The Asian-American grinned at the Englishwoman. Lara recognized the well-worn expression.

 _ _Oh, no...__

The filmmaker thumbed the window switch on the armrest.

"No," pleaded the archaeologist. "Sam, don't..."

The Asian-American stuck her head out the front passenger window.

"BAAAAAH!"

"Sam!"

The bleating resumed from the back seat, echoing that from the front.

"BAAAAAAAHH!"

The Englishwoman tilted her head downward, trying to conceal her face from the renewed pedestrians' stares in her direction.

"BAAAAAAAAAHHH!

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Lara shook her head amidst the cacophony. Of course they had to be sitting at what appeared to be the longest red light in all of London.

The Englishwoman rapped her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. "I'm never taking you lot out. Ever. Again."

"Bet you will," teased Sam, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

The Prius' front wheels squeaked shrilly as the traffic light finally turned green.


	2. Making Her Mark

A YEAR IN THE LIFE, Chapter 2

Waiting was not one of Lara's strong suits.

Her right foot twitched unconsciously as she gazed out the window. Brasilia's neatly structured and modern cityscape stretched out in the distance, the glass-clad buildings glittering in the afternoon sun.

In a city barely half a century old, Lara felt utterly out of her element. She should be sweltering in the midday heat of a steaming tropical rainforest, rather than breathing in the cool, air-conditioned air of a modern office complex.

There were no mosquitoes to swat. No thorns tearing her skin.

And she couldn't wait to leave.

She'd been here for almost an hour. Her patience was being sorely tested.

The fact that she'd been brought to a different office was disconcerting - this wasn't the large and richly-decorated Deputy Minster's office she'd been in the previous week.

Turning her back to the cityscape, Lara glanced again at the nameplate on the desk.

 _Luis Castillo._

No title.

Why had she been brought to what, to all appearances, was a minor official's office? The receptionist, for her part, had been frustratingly uncommunicative.

The archaeologist had had plenty of time to take in the various diplomas and certificates festooning the back wall, though they painted a generic picture at best: whatever Castillo was, he seemed to be a career bureaucrat with no obvious connections to archaeology or anthropology.

So why was she here?

She'd noted that some of Castillo's credentials had been earned in the States. Assuming he spoke English, there was a good chance she could convey the importance of her request more clearly than she had with the Director of Cultural Heritage a week before. Lara had picked up basic Portuguese from Sam over the years, but lack of practice had severely dulled her capability.

Turning back to the the window, she wondered if she would have to present her case from scratch all over again.

 _Please, no._

She'd lost a week already. Visiting the sights of an ultra-modern metropolis might be fine as a holiday, but she had infinitely more pressing matters to attend to.

And the clock was ticking. There'd been no evidence that Trinity were aware of her whereabouts, but every delay upped the chance they'd realize she was no longer in London - especially now without Doppie acting in her stead.

The doorknob behind her unlatched.

 _Finally!_

She spun around as a rather short bespectacled middle-aged man with a salt & pepper goatee drew into the office, closing the door behind him.

"Terribly sorry," said the bureaucrat in unaccented English as he extended his hand. "Miss Croft, I presume? Luis Castillo, at your service."

Lara returned the greeting and nodded, her impatience partly offset by the relief she wouldn't have to struggle through her grade school Portuguese. The man's smile was genial enough, at least.

"Please, have a seat," said Castillo as he slipped into the leather chair behind his desk. "You'll have to forgive the Director...there are many subjects demanding his attention, as you might imagine."

"I'm sure," replied Lara, sidling into one of the two plush seats opposite the bureaucrat.

Castillo rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a Manila dossier. "I've been reviewing your file. I hope you don't mind answering a few questions?"

Lara fought the urge to let out a sigh. "Not at all."

 _Just get this over with..._

The bureaucrat flipped open the dossier and began going through an unnerving amount of documentation.

"Now as I understand it, you wish to undertake an research expedition in the Amazonas region."

"That's right," confirmed the brunette.

Castillo slowly scanned one page after another. Lara tried to crane her neck higher to get a better look without being too obvious, but the angle prevented her from making out details.

 _Are those photographs...?_

The government official continued to to flip through the dossier, pausing at each page until he stopped at what looked to Lara to be a map.

Leaning back in his chair, he tented his fingers and regarded the brunette.

"I'm sure you understand the sensitivity of this request, Miss Croft," said Castillo. "The region you propose to explore is off limits to tourists -"

"I'm no tourist," interrupted Lara - perhaps too abruptly, she realized. But if he was miffed, Castillo gave no indication.

Nonetheless, the Englishwoman continued in a more diplomatic tone.

"I presented my request a week ago. Real, tangible evidence. It's out there in the rainforest and I intend to find it."

The bureaucrat smiled politely.

"You speak of El Dorado, Miss Croft," said Castillo.

Lara hesitated.

"I never said that."

"Not by name, no," conceded the bureaucrat with a tip of his head. "But a mythical hidden kingdom, long sought after by Conquistadors and adventurers...it paints a rather familiar picture, does it not?"

Lara swallowed. She knew what it sounded like.

But she'd come too far - she had to lay her cards on the table.

"Fine, then. Call it whatever you like."

The man mused thoughtfully. "I must say, Miss Croft, I'm surprised to find someone in this day and age willing to give any weight to such a myth."

"One of the things I've learned over the last few years is that myths sometimes have a basis in fact."

The bureaucrat smiled.

"On occasion, perhaps," admitted Castillo. "But you would hardly be the first to be seduced by the promise of El Dorado's gold. Many have tried to -"

"I'm not interested in that," interjected the archaeologist. "You can keep the bloody gold. It's not what I'm after."

The bureaucrat leaned forward, crossing his arms on the desk.

"Just what _are_ you are after, Miss Croft?"

The archaeologist steeled herself.

"Truth," replied Lara grimly. "Uncovering the legend. To bring the story to the world."

Castillo arched an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Just like that?"

Lara nodded. "Just like that."

Castillo mulled her answer. The unconscious twitching in Lara's foot surged in intensity.

The bureaucrat's gaze turned to the open dossier.

"Even so, we do have...concerns, Miss Croft."

"I'd assumed that's why I'm here."

Castillo pulled a series of sheets from the dossier.

"Your 'team', for one," said the bureaucrat as he flipped though the documents. "This individual, for instance, appears to be a cook by trade."

Lara shifted in her chair. _How would he know that?_

"That's simply his gainful employment. He's more of a Jack-of-all-Trades."

"But not of archaeology," added Castillo.

A pregnant pause.

"Technically not," admitted the Englishwoman. "But such an expedition needs more than just archaeologists. In the rainforest, degrees count for little."

Castillo's expression was carefully measured - and unreadable.

He shuffled his sheets.

"This individual," continued the bureaucrat without preamble, "is an amateur filmmaker, and a failed one at that. But more troubling is that three years ago she was on an Interpol watch list."

"Which was revoked," returned the Englishwoman hotly, the still-vivid memories of Sam's horrific ordeal flashing through her brain.

Castillo's eyes darted along several lines of text.

"She was accused of -"

"I know what she was accused of," interrupted Lara, her right foot stomping in reflex against the floor. "And she was acquitted."

"She was found not criminally responsible," countered the bureaucrat with a slight tip of the head. "A slight but important distinction."

Lara frowned.

"Am I to take it you ran background checks on my team?"

"A necessity, I'm afraid," replied Castillo apologetically. "Given your reputation, we felt it prudent to examine your associations."

The Englishwoman's eyebrows shot up. "My reputation?"

The man's gaze locked on her right hand. Glancing down, Lara saw her fingers gripping the end of the armrest so tightly her knuckles had turned bone-white.

The brunette relaxed her grip.

 _Shit...don't lose control, Lara...this would not be a good time..._

"I realize British tabloids do not necessarily paint an accurate picture," said Castillo consolingly. "However you are possessed of a certain, shall we say, notoriety in the archaeological community."

Lara was speechless, shock and anger struggling for supremacy within her. She'd once set out to make her mark - only that mark had turned out to be infamy.

Castillo leaned forward and entwined his hands together.

"Miss Croft, may I be frank?"

Lara huffed. "You mean you haven't so far?"

The bureaucrat smiled.

"Your 'team' as you call it, is at best inadequate, and at worst, a serious liability. Now, we would be willing to review your proposal if you were to agree that, in lieu of your friends, you would instead agree to join a group of professional scholars and archaeologists."

Lara's stomach churned; she didn't like where this was headed.

"I don't know your people."

"They have the necessary credentials," said the bureaucrat.

Lara's gaze locked with Castillo's.

"It's more than that," voiced the brunette. "It comes down to a matter of trust."

"And yet you're asking us to trust you," countered the official.

Lara clenched her jaw.

 _I've had more than my share of betrayals._

"Trust is a two-way street, Miss Croft," continued Castillo.

The man had a point.

"I just...don't work well with strangers," admitted the Englishwoman.

"I see," said the bureaucrat. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Allow me to be succinct. The Director has already rejected your proposal."

Lara's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry?"

Castillo waved a dismissive hand. "In my view it was an overly hasty decision. Reactionary, really. But given your evidence, I believe I could convince him to reconsider the matter if certain - concerns - were addressed."

Lara suppressed a grimace. "One of which...being my team."

"Precisely," nodded Castillo. "The Director is concerned with public perception should word get out that we are sanctioning such an expedition. Having such an enterprise made up of rank amateurs would only make matters worse - we would be the laughing stock of the archaeological community."

Lara shot up from her seat, unable to contain her swelling anxiety any longer.

 _Oh, bloody Hell..._

Castillo regarded her with concern. "Would you like some water?"

"No thank you," replied Lara, pacing back and forth behind the padded guest chairs.

She was so close. She knew there was something there, out in the rainforest, ancient and hidden. The hard evidence might be thin, but she could sense its underlying truth.

She could feel it in her bones.

"There is also the matter of the region's uncontacted tribes," continued the bureaucrat. "Being semi-nomadic, we have only general ideas of their current whereabouts. Interaction with these people is strictly prohibited. I cannot stress this point enough."

"I have no intention of interacting with them," voiced Lara, her pacing continuing unabated. In truth, it was a half-lie: the notion of witnessing people unchanged from Neolithic times was compelling - but the archaeologist knew the risks, as much to them as herself.

"So you say," said Castillo. "But having our own people in this expedition would go a long way towards allaying our concerns in this regard."

Lara came to a stop at the window. Pressing her palms against the windowsill, she gazed unseeing at the modern metropolis beyond.

Working with strangers. People she didn't know.

People she didn't trust. _Couldn't_ trust.

Trinity had taken that ability away from her. Maybe for good.

She spun on her heel and faced the official.

"And if I insist on my own people?"

Castillo patted the dossier. "Then we close this file and bid each other good day."

Lara must've had a look of true desperation on her face as the bureaucrat's expression quickly softened.

"Miss Croft, I'm asking you to be reasonable," said Castillo. "This would go a long way towards rehabilitating your standing in archaeological circles."

"Excuse me?"

"I meant no offense," said the official, raising his hands apologetically. "But let us be candid. Your methods are rather unconventional, to put it mildly."

Lara swallowed.

"Not always by choice," rasped the brunette.

"I'm sure that's true," said Castillo. "Nevertheless."

Lara slowly shook her head as her heart threatened to burst out of her throat.

She could feel it slipping away.

"I can't go with your people. It has to be my team. Or no one."

The bureaucrat regarded her without expression and slowly nodded.

"I'm sorry, Miss Croft," said Castillo. "I truly wish we could've come to an agreement. But you are next-of-kin to Chaos."

~ oOo ~

Sam pushed off from the taxi at Lara's approach.

"Ohhh, I know that look," remarked the former filmmaker. "They said no, didn't they?"

"In a word, yes," confirmed the archaeologist darkly as she grasped the rear passenger door handle. "I am therefore going anyway."

"I figured," returned the Asian-American. "Well then, we'll just have to keep our heads down. If we're careful they shouldn't -"

"You're going back, Sam," interjected Lara. "You and the others."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "What? No way!"

"I'm serious," said the Englishwoman. "There are now legal ramifications in play. Serious ones. If we're caught -"

"And what about if _you're_ caught?" interjected Sam angrily. "I won't let you rot in jail!"

Lara rolled her eyes.

"Would you rather rot in jail _with_ me?"

Sam threw her arms out in emphasis. "Yes!"

Lara huffed. "Oh, for -"

The Englishwoman turned to open the passenger door and hesitated.

She spun back to face her companion.

"You know what the worst part about all this is, Sam?" asked the archaeologist, shaking her head. "Is that I actually believe you."

Sam grinned.

"We'll have parties."

The archaeologist looked on as the Asian-American reached past and yanked open the car door.

"Come on," said Sam as she slid onto the taxi's rear bench. "We both knew this was a distinct possibility. I made preparations for just such an eventuality."

Lara joined her friend and closed the door behind her.

"What sort of preparations?"

"Calls? To whom?"

"De volta ao hotel, pro favor," said Sam to the driver before turning back to the Englishwoman. "I know some people who have a production company down here. They referred me to some dudes who run an excursion business based out of São Gabriel -"

"We're not tourists," interjected Lara as the taxi began rolling.

"Let me finish," continued the Asian-American. "The production companies often contract these guys to shuttle film crews and such to remote locations. No questions asked, no access authority required - for a price."

"A price?" asked Lara, arching an eyebrow. "How much?"

"What do you care?" returned Sam, snapping her seat belt into its slot. "You're loaded."

"Most of that is tied up in the estate!"

"So, you've got equity."

The archaeologist slumped against the seat back and stared at the grey roof.

"Just...how reliable are these people?" sighed the Englishwoman.

"I'm told very reliable, if you ante up," said Sam. "And they're Americans, so at least you'll be able to communicate."

Lara craned her neck to look at her companion.

"My Portuguese isn't _that_ bad...is it?"

Sam ran her fingers through Lara's fringe and gave her a sad smile.

"Oh, sweetie...haven't you suffered enough?"


	3. Setting Out

A YEAR IN THE LIFE, Chapter 3

Juan swore as the wrench slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor, the hexagonal nut disappearing somewhere down the Evinrude's innards.

 _Fuck!_

Taking a step back, the mechanic scratched the back of his scalp. The old outboard was more trouble than it was worth - but Al had never been one to overlook a freebie.

 _Maybe I should just dump it in the river...bet he wouldn't even put in an insurance claim for this piece of shit..._

The music blaring from the shop radio abruptly cut out.

"Hello?"

Juan spun around. At the workbench stood a striking Asian woman with neatly cropped, shoulder-length black hair.

She withdrew her fingers from the radio's volume knob and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't think you could hear us."

By 'us', the young woman evidently meant her two companions standing under the overhanging garage door: a pretty blonde sporting a ratty old baseball cap from under which flowed a long, dishevelled mass of flaxen locks, along with an stunning ponytail-rocking brunette who, unlike her Asian companion was eyeing him with rather more reserve.

He gaped at the women: here in the remote backwater of the Amazon basin, they looked starkly out of place — not that he was complaining.

 _Holy shit..._

"Easy, fella," warned the blonde.

Juan quickly snapped his mouth shut.

"Oh, let him look," laughed the Asian. "He's cute!"

"It's not the looking I'm worried about," muttered the blonde, her expression guarded and suspicious.

"Can we get to business please?" voiced said the brunette in a distinct British accent, shifting impatiently. "We're burning daylight."

The Asian sprang forward and extended her hand. "Right. I'm Sam Nishimura, I called to make arrangements a couple of weeks ago?"

Juan shook the proffered hand, immediately kicking himself for not wiping the grease from his palm. "A couple of..."

It suddenly dawned on him: this was the group they were to transport up the Rio Uapés - for as yet reasons unknown. Al had given few details about the mysterious customers.

Juan's attention was diverted to a commotion outside in the gravel lot where a small group of people were unloading cargo from a cube van.

Handling the largest containers was a bear of a man, though the altercation stemmed from a short-haired African-American woman who was in the process of poking a red-haired woman who looked to be the brunette's virtual twin in the shoulder. Though they were a good twenty-five yards away Juan could pick up every word.

" - and don't give me any of that 'wasted on menial tasks' bullcrap! You're gonna do your share or I'll kick your white ass all the way to -"

The altercation didn't go unnoticed by the women in the garage.

"Elsie," voiced the brunette ominously.

But the blonde had already reacted, running outside and waving her hands frantically.

"Oh, no, no, no...Joslin, don't do - _JOSLIN!_ "

Juan looked on as the the girl — Elsie? — quickly ushered the African American away from the redhead.

"Um...everything all right?"

"Oh, sure," replied Sam, waving a dismissive hand. "They'll be fine. They're still getting used to each other, that's all."

"At least they haven't killed each other...yet," added the Englishwoman in a deadpan tone that made Juan wonder if she was serious or not.

Sam turned back to the mechanic. "So, is the owner around? He was supposed to have everything ready for us."

"Uh, yeah," said Juan, thumbing over his shoulder "He's, uh, just wait here..."

Nearly tripping over an open toolbox, the mechanic quickly made his way to the office at the back of the garage.

He rapped briefly and cracked the door open. "Dude! You gotta come check these girls out!"

The outfitter was hunched over in his chair, rummaging through a desk drawer.

"Yeah, some other time...where in Hell are the last fuel invoices?"

"No, really," insisted Juan. "It's like Charlie's Angels out there."

Al's grey-crapped head slowly drew up.

He frowned at the mechanic. "What are you talking about?"

Juan drew further into the cluttered office, closing the door behind him. "The clients you told us about, the ones going upriver...they're here."

"Oh," said the outfitter, brows rising in acknowledgement. "Fine then, take 'em down to the docks. Diego should be there by now."

The mechanic pointed back to the door. "But you gotta come check them out!"

Al's frown returned. "In a bit...why so excited?"

Juan chuckled. "They ain't exactly your average everyday customers. Come on, just trust me on this."

The outfitter sighed and slammed the drawer shut. Pushing off from his chair, he rounded his desk.

"This better be good," grumbled the owner as he shot Juan a sideways glance.

The two men made their way to the shop garage. To Juan's surprise, Al gave no undue reaction to the two stunning young women near the workbench.

"Ladies," said the owner as he extended his hand in greeting. "Al Sanchez."

"Sam Nishimura," echoed the Asian, smiling. "I hate to cut to the chase like this, but any chance of our getting underway before dark?"

"That's not a problem," replied the outfitter smoothly. "With the amount of money you're throwing at this we'll be on the river within the hour...Hell, we'll even help bring your gear down to the docks."

Juan noticed the brunette give a subtle look to her companion, one that the Asian seemed careful not to meet.

"That'd be terrific, thanks!"

With that, the Asian turned and hurried outside towards the cube van, the brunette on her heels.

"Sam...a word, please."

Al turned and gave Juan a wry smile.

"Well, they're not poachers, that's for sure," said the outfitter before disappearing to the office.

~ oOo ~

Lara gazed up at the azure and slowly turned to all points of the compass — there was still no sign of her nemesis.

No helicopters. No planes. Not even their ubiquitous drones.

Might she have actually given Trinity the slip? She hardly dared to hope.

Turning on her heel, the archaeologist took in the island of civilization that was their base camp.

Three small sleeping tents surrounded a dug-out circle of stones, which had already been prepared with firewood for the coming night. Beyond were several tables shielded from the elements by overhanging tarpaulins. They were already cluttered with laptops, communications equipment, med kits, maps and the general accoutrements of an organized expedition.

Set further away from the camp was a wheeled generator supplied by twin 45 gallon petrol drums, which were in turn flanked by a communications antenna pointing thirty feet into the sky, its stabilizing cables anchored into the ground.

Supplies were stacked all about the camp, ensuring they could survive without outside assistance for at least a fortnight. Sam had even organized resupply by helicopter should it be required.

Of course, Lara was well aware every day they remained they ran the risk of discovery by the Brazilian authorities — or worse.

The brunette twisted her fingers through her ponytail and sighed.

 _If I came across this in the jungle I'd probably think it was a Trinity job..._

It would take getting used to.

Of course, such preparation undoubtedly came at a price: she shuddered to see the final financial outlay.

It wasn't that she couldn't afford it; given the full, unfettered resources of the Estate behind her, it was but a pinprick to her finances. But throwing out large sums of money was still anathema to the Englishwoman.

It was why she'd settled on a Prius rather than a car more typical of the English landed gentry — but even that comparatively sensible purchase had produced a twang of guilt in the brunette the moment she'd signed the contract.

"Stop torturing yourself," Sam had laughed, sensing her friend's torment. "Damn girl, good thing you didn't get a Rolls!"

Lara was grateful Sam had handled the minutiae of organizing the expedition; she had quite enough on her mind without having to worry about such trivialities as budgets, flight costs and boat rentals.

 _Sam..._

The Englishwoman rubbed her forearm. It hadn't been so long ago that she thought hers and Sam's life paths had diverged permanently.

It had felt like half her soul had been unceremoniously ripped from her.

What had she been thinking?

But so much had changed.

 _Nothing else matters._

Lara swallowed at the rawness of the Asian-American's words.

She'd been such a fool. Sam had once more reached through the murky depths to pull Lara from the gloom.

And in truth, she should've seen it coming.

 _I'm not leaving without you._

Lara smiled to herself. There was no question, now — they were on this journey together.

The brunette was suddenly drawn from her reminiscence by rustling to her left.

Turning towards the sound, her eyes fell on a kneeling Elsie, her back to the brunette — she seemed preoccupied with rummaging through a clump of vegetation.

Lara caught a glimpse bright green and took a step closer.

The Englishwoman's breath caught in her throat.

The blonde had fished out a long, slender snake from the vegetation — she was grasping the serpent by the tail with one hand while supporting its head with a forked stick.

The emerald green scales and distinctive dark cleft between eye and nostril sent alarm bells ringing in the archaeologist's head.

 _Pit viper!_

Lara resisted the urge to lunge forward lest the sudden movement cause the serpent to strike out in reflex.

"Elsie!"

The blonde gave no reaction, slowly turning the forked stick as the snake slowly ambled along its length: she seemed utterly oblivious to the danger the creature represented.

"For God's sake, get away from that thing!" hissed the archaeologist.

"Geez, relax," returned the blonde with unnerving calmness, her eyes not moving from the reptile in her grasp. "This isn't the first snake I've wrangled."

Lara balled her fists, struggling to contain her anxiousness. "And just how many _venomous_ snake species are there in Maine?"

"I'd have to Google that."

"You _know_ the answer!" exclaimed the Englishwoman. "Blast it, Elsie, let it go!"

The blonde frowned. "Don't be a nag, will ya? We only just got here."

Lara stomped her foot for emphasis. "ELSIE -"

The brunette stopped herself. Blowing out her cheeks, she took a deep breath before continuing in a deliberately measured tone.

"What did we say about taking unnecessary risks?" asked the archaeologist. "Would you rather I leave you behind next time?"

For several moments the blonde gave no reaction. But finally Lara detected the slightest sagging of her friend's shoulders.

The veiled threat had struck home.

"Fine," sighed Elsie. She slowly lowered the snake to the ground and watched at it slithered silently into the brush.

"Off you go, little fella."

"Thank you," said Lara, her heart rate subsiding to a slightly less frantic rhythm.

Elsie pushed off from the ground and swept the dirt from her trousers.

"You didn't have to hold that over me, you know," muttered the blonde.

"You left me no choice," countered Lara firmly. "If that thing had so much as nipped you — "

Lara's paused her riposte at Sam and Jonah's approach. The filmmaker pressed a satellite phone into the Englishwoman's palm.

"We're set," said Sam. "Kaz set the encryption, so no worries about eavesdropping. And it's GPS-enabled so we can track you on a secure frequency."

Jonah in turn produced a steel case and held it up at chest level, handle facing the archaeologist. Lara flipped the double latches and pushed the lid up against the Samoan's chest.

The base of the case sported six molded foam recesses, two of which were occupied by Remington Model 1911 pistols.

Lara snatched up one of the handguns and held it up for inspection. She tested the slide action for smooth operation. It glided effortlessly.

Jonah produced a handful of ammunition clips.

Slipping the firearm into the holster strapped to her hip, Lara took the proffered ammunition.

She glanced at the remaining pistol.

"Why's there still —"

She spied Elsie furtively edging back.

"Oh no you don't," voiced the archaeologist, instantly fitting the pieces together. Snatching the remaining Remington from its case, she moved for the blonde.

Elsie's palms immediately shot up.

"Don't even think about it," stated the blonde firmly.

Lara thrust the weapon grip-first towards her friend. "Take it. This is not a discussion."

Elsie made a duck face. "Sheesh, who made you Queen of the Amazon?"

"In the field, I'm in charge," stated the archaeologist. "We can debate this when we're back in Surrey...take it."

The blonde eyed the weapon with undisguised revulsion. "Give it to somebody else. Or keep it as a spare...just don't give it to me, all right?"

"We talked about this," said the brunette impatiently. "Don't pretend —"

"More like _you_ talked about it," countered the blonde hotly. "I'm not blowing anybody's brains out, okay?"

Lara huffed. "Bugger, Elsie! This is for your own protection! You _agreed!_ "

The blonde balled her fists. "Only because you wouldn't drop it!"

The Englishwoman dropped her arm to her side.

"Oh, you witch!" hissed Lara, glaring at the blonde. "You deceitful little —"

"Okay, you two," interrupted Sam, interposing herself between the two friends. "That's enough. Elsie, the girls could use a hand setting up the command tent."

Lara turned her frustration to the Asian-American. "Sam, we discussed this! Out here everyone keeps a sidearm at all times."

"I know, but..."

But Elsie was already flouncing off without a word, her stride angry and purposeful.

Lara could feel her cheeks flush — it was all she could do not to throw the pistol after the blonde.

"Oh, that...that..."

Sam drew close and filled Lara's field of vision, blocking her view of the retreating blonde.

"Oh sweetie, don't be upset," voiced the filmmaker softly, brushing back her companion's fringe. "You have enough on your plate as it is. Let me handle this, okay?"

Lara sighed.

"Talk to her, Sam," pleaded the brunette as she handed off the pistol. "Explain to her just how reckless she's being."

A hint of amusement crossed the Asian-American's features.

Lara arched an eyebrow. "What?"

Sam's serious expression quickly returned: "Right...of course I'll talk to her."

"Thank you."

The filmmaker leaned closer. "Please be careful."

Pressing her lips to the brunette's, Sam's kiss managed to at least partly dissipate her companion's lingering frustration. The Englishwoman closed her eyes and allowed herself a few moments of bliss.

 _Oh Sam..._

Her lips lingering for a few precious seconds, the filmmaker finally drew back. Lara opened her eyes in time to catch one last worried look from the Asian-American before she headed off after the blonde.

"Keep an eye on them, Jonah," said the Englishwoman after several moments. She kicked the dirt idly and took a deep breath. "I swear, Elsie can drive a girl to drink..."

The Samoan drew near, the now empty pistol case dangling from his fingers.

"Try not to hold it against her," said Jonah in the familiar geniality that Lara knew so well. "I'm guessing she hates guns."

"To put it mildly," returned Lara, turning to face the Samoan. "But I hate it when she lies to me."

The Samoan appeared thoughtful. "Well, if she'd told you the truth, how would you have reacted?"

"I would've left her behind, of course," replied the archaeologist without hesitation. "Why do you think I insisted on everyone being able to defend themselves...why, what are you getting at?"

Jonah inclined his head slightly. "So...she'd be at the Manor, then."

Lara shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "That's right."

"For the next couple of weeks."

"...yes..."

"By herself."

"Don't be daft," countered the Englishwoman quickly, jamming a fist into her hip. "I would've left Doppie with her of course."

"Just in case."

"That's right."

There was a twinkle in Jonah's eye.

"I see," postulated the Samoan as he rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger.

Lara sighed.

"Just what are you trying _not_ to say, Jonah?"

The Samoan shrugged. "You know her better than I do. Anyway..."

Jonah dropped the pistol case to the ground before wrapping his bear-like arms around the brunette.

"Take care of yourself, Little Bird."

Lara returned the hug. She was profoundly grateful for the Samoan, both as a source of sober second thought and a reassuring presence. Her friends were in good hands.

Slowly breaking the embrace, Lara smiled at Jonah one last time before making off for the outcrop northeast of camp.

As she approached the solitary figure standing watch, Lara experienced a terrifying flashback from her Tibetan expedition — and thanked the stars that the being up ahead now fought at her side.

"Anything?" asked the archaeologist as she drew up alongside her doppelgänger. From this vantage point the jungle's green canopy was visible for miles in all directions.

Doppie shook her head, her golden-yellow eyes continuing their slow scan of the horizon.

"Good," said Lara, giving her gear one final check. "With any luck, we may have given them the slip for once."

The Englishwoman flicked her wrist.

10:14 AM

She turned to face her doppelgänger. "Listen to me. We're in the middle of nowhere here. If anyone should show up...take no chances."

The redhead slowly nodded.

Lara turned back to the seemingly endless expanse of greenery and took in a deep breath.

'Right then..."

Setting off down the slope, Lara's excitement at the prospect of a new adventure gave fresh energy to her stride.


End file.
